


Zana, the Imperial Once More

by Courier_Bravo



Category: Original Work, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Death, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Pining, a lot of gay and a lot of hurt and a lot of improvised plot and rewrites, expect chapers to change, i saw oc's and went "but what if there was more hurt?", which in itself is really just original fiction set in starwars, yeah this is just fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courier_Bravo/pseuds/Courier_Bravo
Summary: When your whole life is built around blackmail and bureaucracy, you join the ranks of the Imperials. When you find out that they want to kill you more than you expected they would want to, things get worrying as you rise through ranks. When you find out your great ancestor is also alive and aiding the rebellion you want to end, its just frustrating really.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	Zana, the Imperial Once More

**Author's Note:**

> See end of chapter for notes.

The halls of the Imperial Officer Academy on Prefsbelt IV were annoyingly echoing. The perfectly polished stone floors and transparisteel windows looked immaculate, sure. But it was the echo that ruined it for Lieutenant Zana Acheron. She felt completely exposed, knowing everyone knew someone was walking down that hall. A civilian would assume no one would pay attention, and believe they still had the advantage of surprise. But anyone who has spent any time in the Imperial Bureaucracy can tell you that everyone is listening, always. So, it’s no wonder in the past 5 years she’s been stationed at the Academy, she hasn’t managed to get anywhere near enough blackmail to get a promotion. Everyone always knows you’re there, and are ready before you can press a button on the door. As she presses the button on said door, she hears the small beep from the holodesk on the other side, alerting the well aware Commander on the other side. The door hisses as the hydraulics engage, opening to a smoky smelling room.

The halls, rooms, dorms, and offices of the Academy are all built to have the same sterile, professional look that all Imperial buildings tend to have. However, the office of Commander Starheim felt like stepping into a gate to another planet. Wallpaper, a dark, soft purple with darker purple scrawling covers the three walls without windows. An oval shaped, quadruple thick transparisteel window completely fills the wall opposite of the door. Bookshelves waist high line every wall and the sides of the desk, full of holographiac data vaults. A far, far time in the future in a galaxy far far away on a planet called Earth, they would measure the amount of data storage in that room to roughly a few million terabytes. Here, a long long time ago far far away, it's just the logs of everything that happened on campus for the past 2000 years, along with much of the information needed to run the Academy logistically. 

Sitting at a holodesk in the center of the room and to the right and forward of Zana, is not Commander Starheim. Commander Starheim was called away four months ago to work a mid level position in a logistical nightmare that the Emperor was conducting. His replacement until next month, enjoying some smokeleaf cigars and a pastry, was Senior Lieutenant Commander Ohme. The commander was a rather fat, relatively young, and possibly handsome when cleaned up and shaved, Corellian man. In his 32nd year, he isn’t showing a single effect of his age. However, his diet definitely is obvious. No man in the sector could perfect the logistics of food like he could. Hence how he managed to double his rations while also reducing the total credits spent on food, with absolutely no one noticing his gluttony. 

Walking in front of the desk, Zana gave a curt but submissive salute. 

“At ease, Lieutenant. Do you have my end of the bargen?” The man held out surprisingly slim hands, fingers very close to unnaturally long. 

“Why else would I bother you, Commander?” Zana unbuttons the pouch on her belt and pulls out a bag of premium cooking spices (the flavorings, not the drugs). Handing it to him, a smile slides across both of their faces.

“You’ve done me good service. Your leave will start tomorrow. Be back within ten rotations or I’ll have you hunted. Understood.” It wasn’t a question or even a real threat. Just a formality in case the room was bugged. 

“Of course, sir.” 

With a curt salute, she turned and left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is part one of several that I will be posting over a few days. It's mostly in hopes of getting any kinda motivation now that its in the public. I'm mostly copy pasting a google document so formatting is gonna suck.
> 
> My friend was working on theirs, and because I love them and their work, I'm trying my hand at fan fiction. 
> 
> This whole story is based around "yeah what if character saw what should be her long dead sister and she's fighting to protect the very state she's been working to dismantle in between loving her wife." And then I started getting ideas and giving flavor and now its like 16 pages on google docs. So I'm putting it here now.
> 
> It also gets longer as I went on over the months, but the difference is a page per part vs two or three per part. I also totally stole the "fade away to flashback or something" thing that author kkat (fallout: equestria) uses in their work because its just a very nifty tool in writing. Honestly I don't really know where to go with this story because I'm very bad at being creative but, that's okay. I have virtually infinite time to toil away at this when the fancy strikes me approx once a month if even.


End file.
